


Happenstance

by Bubbly88Tay



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Broken Bones, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Whump, Whump Exchange, drugged, stabbed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbly88Tay/pseuds/Bubbly88Tay
Summary: Wyatt Logan. Delta Forces. Texas. 2017.Sometimes life really is all about the situations forced by our decisions. No matter what the intentions of our decisions are.





	Happenstance

Wyatt slowly came to his sense, one sense at a time.

First, he could feel the rough material of the rope? that was wrapped tightly around his wrists. The same tightness was felt around his chest, holding his body back against whatever was holding him up. The fuzziness in his head didn’t allow him to fully understand that the hard material held against his back was actually a chair, it would be a few minutes before he would fully process that. Around his face, he could feel a cloth wrapped around his head, effectively gagging him.

After a few more moments, his sense of smell and taste came back, and in that order. It smelled, wet, there was obviously mildew in the air, and he could vaguely smell cigarette smoke lingering.

His tongue was pushed down by the fabric that was blocking any sounds escaping him. It tasted stale like it had been in his mouth for a while.

His head was throbbing as he lifted his head up from his chest, the muscles in his neck, back, and shoulders screaming at him.

When Wyatt opened his eyes, he immediately flung them shut again. The light acting as knives as it shone its way into his pupils. Trying again, he brought his eyes open slowly, stopping as he opened them to a squint.

His surroundings were bland, it reminded him of a basement, an older one at that. The walls were wood panels, except for windows that sat right below the ceiling, allowing natural light to leak in every few feet in the large, mostly open space. There were two rows of wooden columns that ran down the length of the room, including one directly behind him, his chair tied to the wide column.

Looking down at himself, he was unsurprised to be seated in a wooden chair, his wrists tied down tightly to the arms of the chair. He couldn’t see, but he could feel his ankles tightly tied to the legs of the chair.

The most shocking part of the situation was the video camera that was staring him right in the face. About five feet in front of him, sitting up on a tripod, was a camera. Wyatt didn’t believe it to be on, there were no lights flashing and there no other indications that it was on.

He allowed a groan out of himself, up to this point being as quiet as possible in case there was someone nearby. The groan seemed to bounce around the room and come straight back at him, the noise echoing in his head.

Turning his throbbing head, he glanced out one of the windows and was unsurprised to see grass and then open skies. He had no idea where he was, he had no idea why he was here, and he had no idea when he was.

Wyatt Logan was completely lost.

He spent the next ‘who-knows-how-long’ continuing to strain and remember the events before his current incarceration. After a while, the most he was able to piece together was that the last thing he remembered was that he had gone out for a drink with Lucy and Rufus. A sort of tradition the three of them had begun after they would get home safely. It wasn’t much, but it helped Wyatt soothe his fears of not being in ‘his’ time period.

He was lost in his thoughts much later when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a door opening and then closing. Wyatt was suddenly much more alert then he was moments before, his heart began to beat quicker as he heard footprints above his head. The door must have been upstairs someone, as noises were still muffled, but Wyatt wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be alone.

It wasn’t much longer after that, that a door opened to the basement. Wyatt straightened up as much as the ropes around him would allow him to as he heard footsteps coming down a stairway behind him. If he was correct, it only sounded like one pair, however, he couldn’t be sure.

“Ah, so he wakes. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?”

A man, based on the deep, gravelly voice that called out to him. Wyatt twisted in his seat to the best of his ability, trying to catch a glimpse of the man but the man stubbornly (and probably intelligently) kept himself hidden just out of Wyatt’s eyesight.

Wyatt’s captor took his struggling silence as an answer. The footsteps stop somewhere behind him, and its all Wyatt can do to not show the flurry of emotions that were whirling around. It takes several deep (or as deep as it gets with a gag) breaths and a mantra of everything that they ever taught him in the whole ‘what to do when you’re being tortured’ class, to calm his racing heart again.

In those few seconds, the man remained silent, unmoving. Wyatt stared straight ahead, clenching his fists as tightly as the ropes wrapping them down would allow him.

Finally, the footsteps started up again, walking away from him at first. It sounds like he’s walking behind him, but then they stop, and all is silent again. Wyatt refuses to turn his head, knowing that doing so is wasted time and energy. Instead, his eyes flicker back and forth as his thoughts continue to rush.

Again, the footsteps start up again, and this time, they’re heading straight towards him. The hardwood floors that were laid down the length of the floor leaving it no mystery where the man stood. As his footsteps grew closer and closer, Wyatt’s mantra shifted. _Wyatt Logan, Delta Forces, Texas, 2017._ All things he knew to be true, all things he could hold on to.

The man finally stepped into Wyatt’s line of sight, as he walked to the camera. The man was wearing a dark shirt, with the neck plunging low, revealing dark hair coating his chest. His pants were blue jeans, and his boots were brown. Like something Wyatt would see on contractors, or on someone who was trying to keep their toes safe. The steel-toed boots were a personal favorite of Wyatt’s growing up around the farm and the cattle. Nothing worse than having a cow back onto your toes.

Looking back up, Wyatt noticed the dark gloves, the fabric clinging tightly to the man's large hands. Taking note of the mans tall, yet athletic frame, he finally looked into his captor’s eyes. Light blue, with dark hair hanging low, just about even with his eyebrows. A sharp jaw, and a crooked nose.

The man fiddled with the camera, and unsurprisingly turned it on and repositioned it a little bit, the lens pointing right at Wyatt.

With a dull clap, the man turned his full attention to Wyatt.

And smiled.

“Test subject, number four. The date is December 12th, 2017."  _That's one problem solved._  "Adult male, his license identified him as Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan of Texas. Military ID confirmed this.” The man continued to prattle on and on about all the details of Wyatt’s life that he chose not to dwell on, but concentrated on the fact that Wyatt wasn’t kidnapped for information. The man was making it seem like this might have been… Wyatt would have smirked from relief if it weren’t for the fact that his life was still at stake here. Whatever this man wanted, he didn’t know what Wyatt spent his days doing.

It was just dumb luck that the man happened to hold one of the worlds few time travelers in his basement.

“-based on the photo in his wallet, he has a significant other, however after some research, I have come to the conclusion that the young woman is deceased. Jessica Logan, spouse.” The man stopped speaking as Wyatt’s attention flashed back to him at the mention Jess.

It pissed him off that this man knew about her. She deserved better than her name to be spoken by... the crazies of the world?

Wyatt let his eyes close as he tried to compose his feelings. “Alright, Wyatt. I’m going to take that gag off, I need some of your input for documentation.” The man paused, taking a step forward and kneeling down to Wyatt's eye level. “I’m sure you’re thinking of quite a few different creative names for me, as these are less than ideal circumstances for you, but for the sake of professional courtesy, you’re going to refer to me as Doctor Kurt. Just Kurt will work as well.” Without another word, the man pulled the gag out of Wyatt’s mouth, and for a second Wyatt considered biting him.

“Why am I here?” Wyatt asked immediately.

Kurt disposed of the gag off to the side, the fabric falling to the ground beside him. Wiping his gloves on his pants, Kurt inhaled. “That typically tends to be the first question I receive. That or ‘where am I?’” Standing straight again, the man crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “To that, I answer, you have been chosen to participate in a study of the human anatomy.”

“My study is groundbreaking. I’m trying to determine the pain tolerance of the human body while also trying to soothe and rectify the pain with different types of painkillers.” The man made a motion with his hands as if Wyatt was supposed to clap for him. When Wyatt only tightened his jaw further and clenched his fists harder, Kurt shrugged. “Guess this is what I get for using a soldier, typically the response is more fright than stoic?”

Wyatt once again chose not to engage and the man sighed and reached into his pocket. “I guess we will begin then.”

Kurt pulled out a stainless steel, metal container. Untwisting the top, the man slid a capped syringe into his hand. Gripping the syringe in between his knuckles, he pulled the cap off and threw it into the container. Setting the container down on the ground he advanced towards Wyatt.

Wyatt let the man set a hand on the side of his head before he bucked his head. The man's hand remained firm in his hair, and shoved his head down a little further, a little bit harder. “Watch it Logan, wouldn’t want to puncture your jugular before you even had a chance for some fun.”

Wyatt settled down, conceding. “What is it?” Wyatt asked, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth shut again as the man brought the syringe closer to his neck.

“It’s a little mixture that I made upstairs in my lab. It’s going to dull your pain receptors, while also heightening your awareness.” Wyatt felt the prick in his neck and immediately felt the foreign materials in his body. “Essentially, I should be able to punch you, and you would typically be completely aware of it, and you would hardly feel a thing.”

The effect of the drug was almost instantaneous. Wyatt could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart hammered in his chest. “I can’t seem to win with this combination though. Its either you’ve got a ton of adrenaline in your veins and can feel everything I hit you with, or you don’t have enough adrenaline and then you feel nothing.”

Wyatt’s eyes flashed open as he glared at the man. In response the man shrugged as he took a few steps back, pulling the needle out with him. Wyatt scrunched his nose at the sensation as the man shrugged. “Oh well, that’s what happens in a clinical trial I suppose.”

The man scooped the container off of the floor and walked back behind Wyatt. Wyatt remained where he was, his toes clenching in his boots, his hands squeezing and unclenching as the need to get up and run and move and do anything began to cloud his sense.

“So, the nerve blocker should be kicking in almost as instantaneously as the adrenaline.” Kurt’s head popped back into Wyatt’s line of sight, as the rest of his body did as well. Wyatt glanced downwards and noticed the metal baseball bat that the man held loosely in his hands. “Obviously the adrenaline has kicked in, so why don’t we get this party started?”

Kurt made it sound like a question, but Wyatt had no doubt that the man was clearly not interested in his own answer. The only response from Wyatt was his obviously pounding heart. The man smiled, something cold hidden in the warm gesture.

“I’m sure you know pain, so I’m not going to worry about starting off easy with you. I can only assume you have some experience with pain. So, I’m starting with blunt force trauma.” He held up the bat as if Wyatt needed some form of clarification of what he was going to be beaten with. “I’m going to hit you ten times, in ten different spots, in a myriad of different impact speeds. We’ll start light and end-“

“Jesus, can you just get this over with? There is literally nothing worse than a monologue.” Wyatt bit his tongue as the words slipped from his mouth. Wyatt's temper grew as he felt the ropes on his wrist began to burn his skin. The clothing on his back grew more and more painful with each passing second. This was going to hurt, a lot. The man didn’t seem to mind, instead, he shrugged and flipped the bat upright in his hands.

“Sure thing slugger.” It took him a second to adjust his grip, and then he swung loosely.

Wyatt was instantly certain that the nerve blocker was not working like the doctor suggested it would.

The hit was directed low. It hit his right shin at an angle, and he had to bite back a curse. It wasn’t terrible, more of an inconvenience. Like slamming his toe into a cactus.

The second hit, aimed towards Wyatt’s left knee was just a little bit harder as promised, and it hurt just a little bit worse.

The third hit smashed into his right upper arm and Wyatt grunted, prompting the man to stop momentarily, looking back into Wyatt’s eyes. “For the study to be accurate, any time you need to express pain, I ask that you express it. Don’t be ashamed, it’s just you and me here soldier boy.”

Wyatt did his best to ignore the comments, instead of looking down the length of the room. _Wyatt Logan. Delta Forces. Texas. 2017._ He missed the bat swinging towards him but sucked in a deep breath as the bat cracked against his other arm. Kurt wasn’t lying. Wyatt was finding each hit more and more painful.

Wyatt Logan. Wyatt felt another hit, this one hitting him right in the chest. He could feel his ribs buckle under the weight and he bit his lip hard. He could taste blood in his mouth as he felt the bat smash against his chest yet again. Wyatt closed his eyes. _Delta Forces._

“You still awake, buddy?” _Texas._

“I’m not your buddy,” Wyatt stated, in between deep, calming breaths. Trying his best not to scream, or shout or make any indications that he was in a lot pain.

“Fair enough.” Another hit, this time against his upper legs. _2017._

The seventh hit, hit his lower left leg again, and he could hear the bone snap before he felt it. It hurt, a lot. His teeth were grounding together as the nerves began to scream at him. Kurt must have heard it too because he stopped momentarily. “Hit number seven and it appears that we have broken the first bone.” Wyatt groaned in response.

He was clenching his fists together again as the man ran a hand along his leg gently. It didn’t matter though; the fresh wound was throbbing with every beat of his quickened heart rate. “I will have to set this once the session is over. I’m impressed, normally it takes only a few hits for a broken bone. You made it to seven.” Kurt seemed excited about it, and Wyatt opened his eyes to try and gauge the man's fascination. Wyatt.

In the moment that he opened his eyes, he felt the bat hit his chest again. Wyatt grunted, all the breath in his lungs expelled violently as he coughed, his ribs protesting the actions. Whether he had screamed with the motion, he would vehemently disagree.

Number nine hit him while he was breathing in, and it caught him off guard, and he stuttered to catch his breath as the man reared the bat back for the final hit. Wyatt could feel with his gasped breaths that he had a few broken ribs. Breathing hurt, thinking hurt, and every hit jerked his body, forcing his injuries to move and sending a jolt of pain throughout his body.

The tenth hit, Wyatt wouldn’t remember later on. _Wyatt Logan. Delta Forces. Texas. 2017._ The bat cracked against the side of his head, immediately knocking him unconscious.

 

He had awoken feeling worse than this once before, but he had almost died then too.

Ice cold water being splashed into his face immediately roused him. He cried out, forgetting where he was as his senses came back to him almost all at once. “Wha-“

Kurt knelt down beside Wyatt’s form, Wyatt’s chest heaving with each breath he took. “Your friends are here, they must’ve really wanted you back. Guess we’ll just have to hurry this up.” Wyatt’s brain took a few extra seconds in waking up, and he slammed his eyes shut again as his leg and ribs both screamed about their rough treatment.

Hearing of rescue though, that woke Wyatt up quicker than the water did. “What can I say, I’m kind of a big deal.”

From seemingly nowhere, the man pulled a knife. A long one, at least five inches alone for the blade with a serrated edge. Wyatt struggled, knowing that whatever was about to happen, wasn’t going to be good. Hearing footsteps above him, Wyatt internally begged them to hurry.

“Well, they certainly got to you as quickly as they could. Good on them, not so good for us. We’re going to have to hurry this process up a little bit.” Kurt’s words were agitated, no longer having the calming aura around him. Wyatt looked to the camera quickly and noticed that it was on, and stopped for a second to consider what that meant.

Wyatt only had a moment to consider the words before Kurt spoke again. Wyatt Logan-

“See you on the flip side buddy.” And with those words, the man shoved the knife hilt deep into Wyatt’s chest. Wyatt gasped, a cough bubbled up from his throat. Suddenly, he was no longer drawing air back into his lungs. Gasping, he couldn’t moan, he couldn’t groan. All he could do was see his vision greying out around the edges. The door to the basement banged open as Kurt twisted the knife deep within Wyatt’s chest and pulled it back out.

Wyatt hardly felt it though. The lack of air wasn’t good. He knew from experience that he had a punctured lung, and he knew that he was on a short timer now.

Wyatt faintly heard a gunshot ring out as he felt a sharp sting in his chest once more. His nerves still sore.

Shortly thereafter, he felt a hand on his cheek, tapping slightly as they tried to gather his attention. With heavy-lidded eyes, Wyatt looked up into the face of an unknown man and could do nothing more than blink. “Logan, medics are on their way down and we are going to get you out of this chair as soon as possible. You just gotta hang on.”

Another gasp of breath and Wyatt attempted a smile. “Anything-” another gasp, “to get out-” a slight cough that was more like a wheeze in disguise, “of this damn chair.” The uniform in front of him smirked.

“Yes, sir.” The man pulled a knife from somewhere off his person and Wyatt couldn't help the flinch that crossed his face. The other man looked at him seriously. “It's for the ropes on your wrists. I'm going to free your extremities but you can’t move, the knife is still in your chest.”

Wyatt didn't know what possessed him in that moment to look down, but he supposed it's not every day that you get to see a knife protrude from your own chest. His shirt was soaked in blood. Most of it new, however, there was a trail of dried blood on his shoulder, probably from his head wound. There was a hand on his chest, black-gloved and Wyatt had to remind himself that it was from the men trying to save him, not from Kurt. Who lied a few feet beside him in his own puddle of blood, a bullet between his eyes. The hand was where Wyatt had felt the first stab, the knife protruded from his chest a little below that. He assumed it was in his gut somewhere. Wyatt suddenly could see his chest heaving up and down, but he didn’t feel it. _WyattLoganDeltaForces_

Instead, he felt his eyelids drooping again and wondered how he had managed to stay awake this long. Wyatt attempted to focus on his breathing but realized he wasn't breathing. Opening the eyes, he didn't realize he had shut, he could see his chest bucking but it wasn't rising and falling anymore. It was struggling. _Texas2017_

“Sir, hang on! Medics are almost here just hang-” the words began to dissipate and slowly his mind began to pull him away from the situation. _WyattLoganDeltaForcesTexas2017_

Until once again, he knew no more.

_Wyatt Logan_

\------

Lucy and Rufus sat by side in matching chairs. It was a private waiting room, courtesy of the government, but that just meant that they sat in equally uncomfortable chairs, alone in their thoughts.

Lucy had arrived at the hospital first. Agent Christopher had met her in the lobby with a grim look.

“What happened?” Agent Christopher made an attempt to quell Lucy’s obvious anxiety with a light smile, but Lucy could see immediately that it didn’t reach her smile. Over the last few weeks, Lucy has gotten crazy good at being able to read people based on their facial expressions and body language.

Right now, Agent Christopher was probably not the best person to be calming her nerves. Maybe it wasn’t her expression or her body language, but the blood on her shirt definitely wasn’t going to calm Lucy down. “Is that Wyatt’s?”

Denise looked down at her hands and blouse and nodded. “We got here not too long ago. They just rushed him into surgery-“

“Sur-what? Surgery! What happened to him? What happened to Wyatt?” Agent Christopher unconsciously picked at her nails, or more likely the blood on them as she dropped the pretenses. Her smile slipped from her face as she suddenly seemed ten times more tired than she did moments before.

“He was kidnapped-“ Denise braced herself as Lucy’s drew in a deep breath, gasping.

“Wha-how? Why?” Lucy wrapped her coat around her tightly, the air growing cold.

“That’s a lot of questions, Lucy, let me answer them.” The agent gave Lucy a tight-lipped smile. Lucy nodded her head in response as Denise sucked in a deep breath. “He was kidnapped late last night.” Lucy cringed, an unasked question on her lips. She raised an eyebrow, stopping Lucy before she spoke.

“We think it was a random act, but we couldn’t get to him on time.” She could see Lucy’s eyes darting back and forth, trying to understand. Denise had been doing this long enough to know that sometimes there was no understanding the random.

“You just said he was in surgery?” Lucy asked. Always hopeful.

“I’m sorry, yes, he was still alive by the time I got to him, but just barely. The man who kidnapped him worked him over pretty bad.” Denise could see Lucy’s eyes water lightly, but she was quick to wipe it away.

“How? Is he going to be alright?” The words were whispered, and Denise could tell that all she needed right now was to not be here. For none of this to have happened.

“Lucy, we should wait for – “ Denise stopped as she spotted Rufus as he rushed in through the hospital doors. It was obvious that he was unprepared for the call to get to the hospital as quickly as possible as Lucy was.

Unfortunately, the two of them had not been made aware of Wyatt’s situation. It had been a flurried mess of action from the moment the eyewitness had watched him being dragged off the street after having been injected with something. They didn’t stop until they had found him. Even then, it might have been too late.

“Lucy! Agent Christopher! I’m here, I’m here. What happened? Where’s Wyatt? Is that his blood?” Rufus jogged up to the pair of them, his questions starting after he made it halfway across the room.

“Rufus, thank you for getting here on such short notice. As I was just telling Lucy, Wyatt was kidnapped late last night-“

“Kidnapped? By who? Why?” Denise would have rolled her eyes if it weren’t for the fact that the situation was so dire. So serious.

“Listen up you two, I can’t tell you both what happened when I am constantly being interrupted. Please, let me speak and I will answer any questions the both of you have. Then we will go and try to find Wyatt. OK?” She waited, once again for two nods now before continuing.

“Wyatt was kidnapped, he was beaten pretty badly and stabbed multiple times.” Once again, audible gasps. “He,” She took a moment to take in a deep breath. “He wasn’t breathing by the time I got to him, but as soon as we got to the hospital, they rushed him into surgery, so that can only mean that he’s still alive.”

The two were stunned into silence, and Denise respected the friendship the three of them had forged in times of adversity. However, Denise also knew that friendships made during hard times would typically last a lifetime…

As short as it looks like the lifetime might be right now.

A few hours later, and here they were. Still waiting.

Denise had gone on a coffee run somewhere within the confines of the hospital and had promised that she would return after she had met up with the team that had found him. When she returned, she held a laptop under her arm and had three cups of coffee in the other. Holding out the tray, Lucy and Rufus took a cup a piece.

They sat a little bit longer, Rufus slowly sipping away at his coffee while Lucy stared at it instead. Worry building in her chest the longer she waited.

Lucy kept reminding herself that as long as Wyatt was still in surgery, he was still alive.

He was still alive.

When the doctor came out much later, exhaustion clear on his plain face, but a weary smile tugging on the corner of his lips, Lucy finally felt the knot in her stomach begin to unravel. “He’s alive?” The words fell out of Lucy’s lips before she had a chance to stop them.

“Yes, mister Logan made it through the surgery. His injuries, while they were severe, I believe he will recover fully from.” Rufus grabbed Lucy’s hand in his. She quickly turned and wrapped him in a hug, tears pricking at her eyes.

“What was the damage?” Denise asked, rising from her own seat, placing the computer in her vacant spot.

“Well, he had a severe concussion and multiple bruises and contusions across his body, consistent with a beating or blunt force trauma. He also had multiple cracked and broken ribs that were also sustained from blunt force trauma. He had two breaks in his leg, which were already set when he arrived. Fortunately they were set correctly, so we didn’t have to rebreak and such.” Lucy pulled away from Rufus and looked at the doctor in shock.

“Oh my god. What did he go through?” Rufus inquired, turning from the doctor to Denise.

Denise decided not to answer, trying not to think of the bloodied bat they had found in the house.

“I can’t tell you what he went through, all I can tell you is that whatever happened to him, it wasn’t fun.” The doctor paused, and allowed the group to let the information sink in. “Then there were the stab wounds.” The doctor watched Lucy and Rufus pale. “He was stabbed twice. Once hitting his lung and causing a collapsed lung and a pneumothorax. The second stab wound penetrated a little further down his body. It punctured his spleen and caused some severe internal bleeding.”

“Right now we have him resting, he’s in and out of it, but with some rest and some physical therapy, we think he’s going to make a full recovery.” The doctor ended his tangent with a smile. “Would you like to see him?”

Rufus and Lucy both nodded their head quickly while Denise shook hers. “I’m going to get back to work, I need to figure out how something like this happened and attempt to prevent it from happening again.”

Denise grabbed her laptop from her chair and turned to Rufus and Lucy, “Call me if there's any news.”

Lucy and Rufus followed the doctor through a maze of halls and ended up outside a doorway. They paused hesitantly, not sure if they were ready for the sight before them.

“You’re friend’s a fighter. If he had fought any less than he had, he would be dead right now.”

‘He’s a fighter alright.” Rufus smirked as Lucy pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Wyatt's eyes were closed, a bandage sat on his temple. His skin was almost translucent as if there wasn’t any blood left in his body. His leg was propped on multiple pillows, wrapped tightly to try and prevent it from stirring. There were wires leading out from under his gown and a tube leading out from somewhere in his chest.

The sight of it made Lucy cringe. “At least there’s no blood?”

“You’d faint.” The voice was faint and Lucy looked back up to Wyatt’s eyes still closed, but a feathered grin was on his face.

“Yea, I would,” Lucy said, walking forward and gripping Wyatt’s hand in an iron grip.

“Man, you look worse than you did in 1865.” Rufus joked, stepping forward behind Lucy and placing a hand comfortingly on Wyatt’s non-broken leg. “I would know.”

“Yea you would.” Wyatt quipped opening his eyes and running his free hand over the stubble on his face, letting it rest on the nasal cannula.

“Do you feel as bad as you look?” Lucy asked formalities out the window.

“Yea, but nothing an extra strength Tylenol and a couple of beers won’t fix.” Wyatt grinned, his hand slipping from his face and lightly on to his chest. His eyelids were drooping, and the pair exchanged a look.

“Wouldn’t suggest you do that right now, or together for that matter.” Rufus beamed, tapping his hand on the man's leg.

“Suppose you’re right.” Wyatt mused.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up,” Lucy said, squeezing his hand lightly.

The squeeze she received in return was the only response they got, as Wyatt slipped back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Winter Whumperland exchange gift for my Tumblr friend, Whumpified! 
> 
> This story was fueled by 30+ hours of no sleep, and just the constant want to Whump Wyatt Logan. I hope you all enjoyed even though it didn't always make sense!


End file.
